


Stay

by onebatch2batch



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, I have a lot of ideas for their reunion, Sorry Not Sorry, They all feature dramatic declarations of love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 13:52:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12960717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onebatch2batch/pseuds/onebatch2batch
Summary: “Three months, Frank, and you come in through the window like Edward from Twilight. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?” she asked, half frustrated and honestly, half relieved. She was beginning to think he’d left for good.(In which Karen has a new apartment, a lot to drink, and has words.)





	Stay

**Author's Note:**

> Full disclosure: I had not written anything substantial in well over two years. No fanfiction, no original works, no poetry. After watching the Punisher (several times now) it seems like I’m finally able to do it again so I present you with one of the 6 or 7 works I have in rotation. Feel free to leave commentary, it’s always appreciated. :)
> 
> Also, you can visit my tumblr at the same handle.

Karen Page knew it wasn’t a good idea to pull out the bottle of bourbon she kept hidden away in her cupboard, but it had been an extremely long week. Not only did every lead she had for her top story wither and dry up before her eyes, but she had finally made the move to her new apartment. After several months of living with a wall full of bullet holes, she had decided it was time. That meant the constant stubbing of toes on boxes and the restless sleep that accompanied sleeping in a place that is not quite yet your own. To top everything off, tomorrow marked the 90th day without seeing or hearing anything from Frank Castle.

Karen sighed and stretched out on her couch, taking a solid pull from her glass. Her apartment was awash in the light from the kitchen, but she was far enough from it that she sat in shadows, watching the moonlight creep across the living room floor. It was quiet in her apartment, but outside the window she heard the normal hustle and bustle of Hell’s Kitchen, even at the late hour. It had been 90 days since that horrible, terrifying day in the hotel. A shiver ran down her spine when she remembered seeing Lewis’ blood splattered across the door, as much as she was glad he was gone. Karen had been through a lot since moving to New York, but one finger twitch from being blown to smithereens has certainly done a number on her nerves. She had been especially grateful for Frank that day, and even more so that he knew more about claymores than the typical man. Her thoughts turned to the moment in the elevator with Frank, and she felt worry wash over her, just as it did every time she thought of him that day.

He’d been covered in more blood than he was clean. His eyes had been wide, but not of fear. More of the intense need for survival, to get out clean, to make sure that she wasn’t hurt. She remembered the way he had looked at her, leaning forward to touch his forehead to hers. She didn’t know if it was the adrenaline in her system or if she was just imagining things, but for the briefest of moments she could have sworn he was going to—

Karen scoffed and shook her head, pouring herself another drink. She couldn’t let herself think about that anymore. It had been three months and while she knew Frank was alive (thanks to Micro—or David—or whatever he wanted to be called) his priority was obviously not seeing her. She forced the bitterness down and leaned her head against the arm of the couch, sagging into the cushions. It wasn’t long until the drinks and silence lulled her to sleep.

–

It was early in the morning when she heard a noise that forced her eyes open. The kitchen light was still on, and the moon was still shining through the open window. The bottle of bourbon looked much emptier than the remembered, which may have explained why the room was spinning. Karen’s eyes swept the room, squinting through the darkness as she slowly sat up. Her eyes moved to the window again and her spine stiffened in fear.

Open window.

She never opened the window.

Almost immediately she shot up, adrenaline sobering her, and reached for her purse on the table. She still had the gun from Fisk’s man and she whipped it out, holding it out to the darkness. “Listen,” she said hoarsely, and cleared her throat, “whoever you are, get the fuck out of my apartment!”

The soft laughter from the dark hallway stopped her in her tracks.

“Attagirl,” came the familiar phrase.

“Frank?” she whispered, eyes widening in shock when he stepped into the soft moonlight. He smiled crookedly at her, gesturing at her gun.

“Gonna put that thing away before someone gets hurt?” he chuckled, but there was an edge to his voice that she couldn’t place. He switched the light on, temporarily blinding her, as she lowered the gun and switched on the safety.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you?” she hissed when her eyes focused on him. He looked-…well, he looked good. Better than she’s ever seen him. He had one black eye but other than that he was clean-shaven, his hair had begun to grow out and most importantly, he wasn’t bleeding. Her question came out a little more venomous than she’d like, but her heart was pounding and the adrenaline was causing her to feel sick. Or maybe that was the alcohol. Either way, she dropped back onto the couch, placing her hands over her face.

A moment later, the cushion next to her sunk slightly and she felt the reassuring warmth of his body next to her. He cleared his throat awkwardly, and she turned her head to look at him in exasperation. Those brown eyes seemed to be staring straight through her. He was in a blank long sleeved shirt that strained against his arms, and his normal khakis.

“Three months, Frank, and you come in through the window like Edward from Twilight. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?” she asked, half frustrated and honestly, half relieved. She was beginning to think he’d left for good.

Thankfully, he looked a little ashamed. He did that little sway he did when he was turning words over in his head, thinking of what to say next. She sighed and stood up, grabbing another glass from the kitchen and pouring them both a drink. “I didn’t know if you’d have me,” he said finally after taking a sip.

“Frank.” Karen said, rolling her eyes. She felt the alcohol hitting her again. “That is some bullshit, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Frank frowned at her, annoyance creasing around his eyes. “What’re you talkin’ about, ma’am?”

“You,” she said in the voice of someone who had most definitely been drinking, while poking him in the chest, “may be the Punisher, but you are also a bullshitter.”

The absurdity of her situation hit her then, and Karen let out a laugh. She knew a lot had to do with the relief coursing through her system, and the bourbon warming her belly, and the come down from the adrenaline, but she felt lighter than she had in months. “Fuck,” she laughed, “the Punisher just climbed through my window, and I’m cursing him out.”

Franks lips twitched upwards so quickly that it was gone the moment she blinked. “That funny to you?” he asked quietly, putting his glass on the coffee table. He had a strange look on his face, a shadow of the look he gave her in the elevator that day.

Karen’s laughter trailed off as she set her glass down, and she sighed. “Look, Frank, do you want me to forgive you? Is that what you want? Because fine, you’re forgiven. I don’t know where you’ve been or what you’ve been doing, but I haven’t heard from you in months and thank God for Micro or I would have had to assume you died, since you know the last time I saw you was in that elevator. And you know Frank, you know what? You didn’t look too good then. You absolutely could have died.” She’s gotten a little hysterical now, and her eyes were starting to get misty like they did when she was overcome by emotion. She’d always been a crier, and this was no exception. 

Frank, for his part, had become a statue. He was watching her tirade with wide eyes, shoulders tensed. The only indication he was still breathing was the rapid tapping on his trigger finger on his thigh and his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

After a minute more, Karen felt two hands grip her arms gently, and suddenly she was encased in Frank’s arms. He pressed her gently to him, almost like he was waiting for her to explode at the movement. Almost immediately she sunk into his embrace, burying her tear-stricken face into his shirt. He smelled like gun oil and cheap soap, but the smell was comforting and calmed her.

“I know,” he whispered into the crown of her head. “’m sorry, I wanted to give you a chance to get away from me. I wanted you to–to move on from me. I’m bad news, Page. I was hopin’ you’d realize that.”

Karen pushed him away angrily. “That’s not for you to decide, Frank Castle!” she snapped angrily, then threw caution to the wind and grabbed him by his collar, yanking his lips down to hers.

Frank tasted different than she imagined. He tasted like the first real wind of winter. He tasted like iron and a hint of bourbon. His mouth was soft, tentative on hers as she moved into his space once again. His entire body seemed to radiate a heat that pierced her skin. His hands came up and touched either side of her face, then trailed down to her shoulders and pushed gently.

Karen moved back and looked away, biting her lip. Retrospectively, she realized this might have pushed him to far. Obviously after three months he wasn’t expecting her like this: threatening, angry, crying, and now kissing him. Embarrassed tears gathered in her eyes and she dashed at them with her sleeve quickly. She would not make herself out to be any more of a fool than she already had.

“Hey, uh,” Frank swallowed thickly, wiping a stray tear with the pad of his thumb. “Look Karen. I’m sorry, that I, y’know, did this to you. I never wanted to see you upset. And, hey—“ Frank lifted her chin so she could look into his eyes. They were soft, but something in them burned through her all the way down to her toes. “I want this,” he told her softly, “but not like this.”

Karen heart stopped in her chest, then exploded into a frenzy. “What?” she breathed, shocked.

Frank leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead, chuckling softly. “You’re drunk,” he informed her, like he was telling her the weather. It had been a long time since she’d seen him laugh that way, so softly she could have missed it. “We can have this conversation when you’re sober.”

Karen reached out to catch his sleeve before he could stand. He looked at her, raising a brow questioningly.

“Will you stay? I promise I won’t kiss you again tonight.”

This time he laughed, a full laugh that warmed her from the inside out. He smiled at her and nodded, and there was a promise in his eyes.

“Yeah, Kar, I’ll stay.”


End file.
